A World Apart
by SuicideKitten
Summary: For years he's just been the stereotypical geek. So of course, no one notices when Tudgeman finally breaks.
1. A World Apart

"Outta the way, Tudgeman!"  
"Oh, uh, right, sorry," Larry said, his eyes quickly darting to the floor. He walked quickly, keeping his gaze fixated on the white linolium floors, riddled with scuff marks and stains. This was the safest way to go. As long as he didn't look up, and especially didn't make eye contact, he wouldn't have to suffer the throbbing pain of a dirty look or, for that matter, no look at all. After years of being made fun of, or simply ignored, he hid the pain and fell back into the stereotype he had been forced to fill. Taking quick steps and making absolutely sure he wouldn't run into anyone else, Larry made it to his locker safely. Now, he rushed to gather his books and papers and be the first one in class. This was the best way, because he was able to sit down somewhere inconspicuous and stick his nose in a book. Greeting the teacher with a slight nod of his head, Larry found an empty seat, off to the side and sat down as quickly as possible. He decided today he would just pretend to be studying the textbook, even though he was fully prepared for the test. Silently unzipping his backpack, in an attempt not to disturb his non existent classmates, Larry pulled out a few sheets of paper and a pencil. Positioning his book so that no one could see what he was writing, Larry began to scribble out a poem on one of the sheets of paper:  
  
There he sits, the little boy  
Alone again, in the dark  
Watching the life that was destroyed  
As on that fatal road he embarks  
Memories whisper in the trees  
A silent wind, coloured in sorrow  
He knows this is a hidden breeze  
And it will succumb to new pain tomorrow  
He gently dips into the river  
Eying it's jovial ebb with great distain  
Knowing his life will never deliver  
How quickly the current runs through his veins  
Release the current, release the flow  
In this darkened state, he is faint of heart  
Realizing it is time to go  
He'll always be a world apart.  
  
The thick black scribbles of his pencil had strayed slightly on some words, as Larry leaned back to re-read his nearly illegible work. Folding it in half he stuffed it into the inside cover of his book and sighed heavily, leaning futher into his seat. There would be a pop quiz today. Larry could tell this by something his teacher did with her eyebrows. Little meaningless things were easy to notice when you had no friends.  
  
Sure enough, like clockwork, there had been a quiz. It was quite long but a very simple task for Larry. Tapping his pencil methodically against the side of his desk, he sat, otherwise motionless, his crystal blue eyes glancing all around. An old neighbor of his had once told him that he had the saddest eyes she'd ever seen. Her name was "Madame Joliene" and she was a fortune teller. She had long red hair that stretched town her back and broke off into stringy split ends, and she wore oversized black dresses with at least five to eight colourful Mardis Gras type beads. Her fingers were long and slender and covered in massive silver rings. Larry remembered this because she touched him when she said he had sad eyes, and he remembered the feel of her ice cold rings pressing against his sallow skin. In some way, he could still see the place in which she touched his arm. It seemed to glow with silver light, as if she'd left some sort of scar. He often felt people had left these sort of scars on him, from touching him, but always quickly brushed thoughts like these away for fear of insanity.  
  
The bell rang. It's angry din resounded through the classroom for what seemed like an eternity. Larry, dashed out with his things, determined to be the first one out. While everyone was gathering up their things and complaining about the pop quiz, Larry was already halfway to his locker, and no one noticed. He reached the classroom incredibly early today, but was surprised to find that, right as he sat down, another person walked it. It was Lizzie McGuire. She seemed a bit out of breath and she was holding something. It was a folded up piece of notebook paper. The thick black pencil lines could be seen through the paper. Larry looked through his book, to find, in horror, his poem was missing.  
"Whew, you're so fast Larry!" She gave him a half smile as she reached his desk. "Here," she said, handing him the paper, "I didn't know you wrote poetry!"  
The sound of Larry's heart sinking could be heard in his voice. "What? Oh, uh, that. Yeah. That's not mine. I mean, it is mine, but I didn't write it. I, uh, had to copy it from a book for a class project."  
"Oh," Lizzie said looking away. "Well, it's really good. Um, see ya."  
"Bye," Larry said softly, looking towards the ground. Hastily he shoved the poem into his notebook and cursed himself for being so careless. Someone had noticed his existence today. He was not invisible. He was still here. Feeling completely alone, he opened his math book and read Chapter 10, in an attempt to cover over the pain inside. 


	2. Home

Lunch that day had gone pretty much as expected. Larry was the first one there. Taking a seat, he took out his lunch and a book. Sure enough, the table took on it's typical daily defect and apparently became radioactive as everyone passed it by, walking at least a foot around it. Some of the lunch tables had eight or nine people scattered about them. Some sitting on each other's laps to make room. However, no matter the lack of space, still, no one came to sit by him. Even the other geeks seemed to have their own clique that Larry just didn't fit into. Yet lunch wasn't the worst part of the day. Larry took this time to sit and read his favourite Science Fiction novels or sometimes get some homework done. As long as he didn't think about how pathetic he was, there was a bright side.  
  
The rest of the day went by very slowly. Even with the lack of friends and failure to become invisible, Larry loved school much more than his homelife. He managed to drag out every second of the day, getting fulfillment out of every moment away from home. Still, the day passed by too quickly and soon, Larry was on the school bus home. Once again, sitting in alone in a seat at the back of the bus.  
  
"Mom?" Larry said loudly, entering the front door. Even in his own home, he felt uncomfortable and out of place. As usual, he followed routine and walked in with his head down as quickly as he could. Suddenly, he was stopped by a hideously scruffy laugh and a hand affectionately messing up his hair. It was his father. Larry fleetingly wondered why he was home from work so early, yet the question was soon replaced with the need to devise a plan for a quick exit. There was another man, standing in the center of the living room, adjacent to the coffee table. The man was about the same height and stature of Larry's father- pretty tall, with a large, protruding gut. He wore a black collared shirt and khaki slacks. A grey toupee was ambiguously draped over his head, attempting to blend in with the other hair but failing miserably. The man had thick, heavy eye brows that matched his hair, a large nose and piercing black eyes.  
"Larry, my boy," his father bellowed out. "I'd like you to meet my old college buddy, Mitch."  
Mitch aggressively forced out his hand. Still staring at the floor, Larry obliged, shook his hand quickly and retreated back to his slouched position.  
"Charlie," Mitch said, addressing Larry's father, "you've got to teach your son to be more assertive. Look at yourself boy. All slouched over, starin' at the ground. Are your shoe laces really that interesting?" At this, the two men let out a sickening din of laughter that resounded through the house. "Seriously though, you should shake my hand like a man, not like some sissy boy." The man sounded exactly like Larry's father with each word he spoke. The only difference was that this man had a slight country drawl.  
"You know Mitch, I tell him the same thing all the time. Oh, but this boy, this boy," he said the last part more gruffly, shaking his hand around in Larry's hair again. He just won't listen to a word I tell him. I say, "Go join the football team, you'll make friends," but no, football's not good enough for this one. His too busy with his Star Flick meeting and what not."  
"Star Fleet, dad, Star Fleet."  
"Whatever the hell it is son, that stuff's for fags. Why can't you be like your brother? He's off at college on a football scholarship, making his father proud. Why don't you join a sport or something?" Larry's father's voice echoed through the hallway. The heavy smell of his cigar smoke was just sinking into Larry's nostrils making him cough lightly.  
"Dad, I already have three academic scholarships," Larry said, a tinge of anger in his voice. Still, he dared not get too angry. His father would win. He always won.  
"It's not about the money son! I have pleanty of that. I'll send you to whatever college your little heart desires. The point is, putting effort into something worthwhile. You know, workin' at it and havin' it pay off. That's what I'm proud of. Now if only you-"  
"It was nice meeting you," Larry said, completely unconvincingly. "If you'll excuse me, I have homework." He left abruptly, lugging his books with him upstairs with him, trying to ignore the strengthening sounds of laughter coming from the living room. Once upstairs, he slammed the door shut and locked it. His room was like a headquaters for the Star Treck fan club. It was covered in posters of his favourite sci-fi tv shows, movies, books, etc. Bookshelves covered all the remaining space of the room, stretching high, up to the ceiling. Each one was covered in hundreds upon hundreds of books, most of them science fiction, still others good classic novels. One bookshelf that sat near his computer desk, held around 200 of his favourite DVD's. His room was slightly messy, a few pieces of clothing scattered around the bed and the floor. Every day was the same when Larry got home. He snuck up to his room, making every attempt to avoid his parents and once there, he would pass the time away reading, watching movies and messing around on his computer. Today though, he felt no energy pushing through his body. Only guilt that he'd never be good enough- for anyone. Instead of partaking in one of his normal activities he slouched into bed and drifted away. 


	3. Carousel

Slowly he walked through the school, but it was dark and abandonned. The hallways were empty and pitch black, lit only by small droplets of moonlight splattered against the lockers and paint chipped walls. The silence crept up on him until it was hanging above him, suffocating him, when suddenly, all he could hear was hideous, horrible laughter. It sounded as if the entire school was laughing, but he couldn't see anyone around. He ran from door to door flinging them open, but each classroom stood there, empty. The building itself seemed to be criticizing him, watching him. Dashing through each hallway, searching for the source of the laughter, he was now breaking into a sweat. Salty streams poured down his face, and he wasn't sure which were broken beads of sweat and which were his tears. Frantic now, he flung himself down the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time. The stairs seemed to stretch out forever, but when he finally reached the bottom, he noticed the laughter had grown louder and more gruesome. Still running, he made his way toward the sound, down a dark hallway. It grew louder still. Suddenly, spotted a river of light pouring from an open door at the end of the hallway. He began to run to it. The closer he got the farther away it seemed, until finally, he reached out to the doorknob and pulled himself inside the room. Once inside, the laughter stopped. It was replaced by a sweet, soft lullabye coming from a music box on a table in the middle of the room. The music box, was a small wooden box painted white, with a single carosel horse sticking out from the middle, rotating around itself, in step with the eerie melodic hymn sounding out from the box. It went very slowly, and almost seemed to be watching him. The table it sat on, was very small. Obviously meant for a child. It seemed the kind of table two children would have a tea party at. It was also wooden, but left unpainted. The room was lit by blinding, flourescent lights. Other than what sat in it's center, the room was completely empty. There was one window in it, but it was old and dirty, and the world outside was pitch black. He walked over to the box, a sick sense of serinity sweeping over him. He stood there for an immesurable amount of time watching it, rotating so slowly it seemed it was about to stop. However, it kept going. He then, reached out to touch it. Lightly, his forefinger stroked the pink saddle lying on the carosel horses back. He took his finger away, feeling a pang of regret. Suddenly, his thick blue eyes widened as the horse stopped, facing him. It's cold black eyes distinctly looked up at him. The music stopped as well. Then, drops of blood began to seep from the tiny black eyes of the horse. Surprised and horrified, he stepped back away from the horse. It began to bleed more profusely, as the rest of the music box was submerged in crimson liquid. He made a dash for the door, but it slammed shut and all the lights went out. Then, suddenly, he could see again. He was outside, in the school's courtyard, lit by the sparkling moon. He looked up at the moon, hanging on a backdrop of stars. Calm, once again, he looked around him. The school was still empty. All sounds had dissapeared into the night. He lifted his hand and scratched the back of his head in confusion, then began to lower his hand. Something caught the corner of his eye. He looked down and noticed that both his arms had been sliced open from wrist to elbow. They were bleeding slowly, as small droplets of blood sank into the earth beneath him. Tears mixing in along with it, he dropped to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. The laughter began again. This time accompanied by chanting. "Get up Larry. Larry. Get up. Larry, Get up." 


	4. Fantasy

"Larry, get up," a voice said firmly, giving him a shove.  
"What?" Larry said, dreamily, coming out of a deep sleep.  
"It's time for dinner," his mother sighed out, sounding very annoyed. She was a very thin woman, her face very tight, with small wrinkles around the corners of her lips from frowning. Her skin was tanned an blotchy from spending too many days as a teenager, bathing in the sun. She looked nothing like Larry. Her eyes were small and dark. She hand stringy, dirty blonde hair that reached to her shoulders when it wasn't in a ponytail. Right now, she was wearing a tight black shirt that only made her look thinner and a tight pair of faded jeans. Light scarlet lipstick decorated the white cigarette she held, pursed between her fingers.  
"Oh, right," Larry said dully, lifting himself from the bed. His mother, who was seated next to him, moved out of his way.  
"Try to brush your hair or something for Christsakes. We have company."  
"Okay," Larry said submissively. He began pulling a comb through his hair, not protesting the fact that his mother was smoking in his room, even though he had a slight allergy toward smoke, that she knew perfectly well about. He figured if he had some kind of an attack, perhaps it may prove to be exciting. It would be something other than going down to dinner.  
From the top of the stairs, Larry could hear loud, gruff voices talking in the dining room. Suddenly, his little sister dashed around him, running down the stairs. Her name was Sandra, but every one called her sandy, partially because of her hair colour. Sandy was a spitting image of her mother, except that her hair was longer and thicker. The pigtails sticking out from either side of her head, stretched down to her middle back. Flinging herself off the last step, with one hand on the banister, Sandy made her way towards the dinner table, wearing faded overalls and a lavender shirt. Soft thuds came from beneath her pink shoes as she ran. Larry took his first step. A roar of laughter came from the dining room, this time with a woman's laugh that wasn't his mothers. Curiosity pressing against his spine, he reluctantly made his way down the rest of the steps, one hand resting lazily on the banister. A very pretty woman was sitting at the table. She had short, platnum blonde hair and deep green eyes. Her skin was very fair. A tight black dress curved around her figure. The colour flattered her much more than Larry's mother. A wine glass, containing white chardonay was lightly draped in her hand. Larry made his way toward the table, deciding this woman must have been the wife of his father's friend. Larry watched his father fawn over his little sister, heaping a spoonful of mashed potatos on her plate. The blonde woman squealed out at "how adorable" she was. Awkwardly, Larry took a seat at the empty chair near his sister, praying that this would be one night his father would just ignore his existance, as his mother did so well. Thinking of her at that moment, she took the seat across from him, so casually you would think she was the only person in the room. Her tall lanky frame, hung over the table. A stone look of boredom was plastered across her face as it was outlined by a ring of white fog. Her plate remained empty as she made no attempt to reach out for food. To her right, sat Mitch. Next to him was his wife, who Larry would later discover was named "Suzy". At the head of the table was his father, to his father's left, Sandy sat, kicking her feet playfully under the table.  
Larry reached out for a pork chop and a filled the rest of his plate with ceasar salad. However, he didn't feel very hungry. Only anxious that his father would say something awful and also very anxious about the dream he'd had. Only bits and pieces remained fresh in his mind, yet each memory was highly vivid and the it seemed very disturbing.  
The evening went considerably well, considering. Larry had managed to finish most of his meal, even through the fact that his company's stupidity sickened him to the point of nausea. Even his mother had managed to eat a roll and some green beans, which was strange for her. His father had been too preoccupied with catching up on things, he'd neglected to give Larry his normal sermon on what makes a "real man". Larry watched them talking, glancing from his empty plate to the stairs, wondering if he could make a stealthy and unnoticed exit. His mother sipped on her third cup of coffee, dreamily staring off into space, completely unaware of her surroundings. Daring to tempt fate, Larry abandonned his dirty plate, smeared with ceasar dressing and decorated with a few sprigs of lettuce and a pork chop bone. He walked, trying to look as casual as he could manage, up the stairs and to his room. Heaving a sigh of relief at his safety, he locked his room and went to sit on the couch in his room. Eyes flashing from shelf to shelf, he tried to find a suitable book to keep his interest until it was time to go to sleep. Having read them all, he simply grabbed one blindly. It turned out to be "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers", a particular favourite of his. Feeling a moment of saddness that his night would be spent submerging himself in fantasy, instead of going out with friends, Larry proceeded on, reading each page quickly. An hour later he was half way through, his spirits slightly uplifted, as he retreated to this world where anything seemed possible. Where all his troubles had blown away with the wind. Larry was the hero in this world. This was one moment in which he could be strong and happy. Embrace the world around him. He kept reading, even though it was already 9:30. Larry didn't exactly feel like sleeping. Not after the dream.  
Once the clock read 2:30 AM, and Larry had already devoured four books, he decided it was time to sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way towards his bed, which was looking more and more inviting. He changed into a pair of boxer shorts- his usual bedtime apperal- and dropped down into his bed. Softly, he closed his eyes, attempting to picture himself happy in his own life. However, the task seemed impossible, so he let his imagination succumb to the wonderous worlds of fiction he loved so much and drifted off to sleep. 


	5. Chemistry

On Thursday, the sounds of students stampeding through the hallways seemed to be turned down to dull thudding steps that seemed to echo and fade. Larry waded through the sea of his babbling peers, zombie-like from lack of sleep. Each step was slower and more cautious than usual, but he still managed to keep out of sight. At the sound of a high pitched female voice going on about her new outfit, Larry winced and dodged out of sight. The voice belonged to Kate Sanders- the most popular, and bitchy, girl in school. Ever since they were in middle school, Kate just loved to pick on Larry. Of course, he was used to this and it almost didn't hurt as much coming from Kate, because she did that to everyone. A student carelessly knocked Larry into a locker, and his vision blurred for an instant. He shook his head, vowing to get more sleep from now on. At four o'clock this morning his little sister had come screaming into his room again. This happened at least once a week. Sandy had awful nightmares that terrified even him, just from the things she'd told him. She never went to his parents. Larry's mother would yell if Sandy woke her up and his father would probably just tell her she needed to be tough. So Larry had become the comfort his sister would run to when she was scared or sad, or whatever. This fact brought him a small sense of satisfaction, knowing he meant something to someone, but then again, when he thought about it, he also had a sense of resentment towards his sister. From the time of his birth, Larry had been neglected by his mother, and criticized by his father- never really getting a good foundation. However, his mother was slightly better with his sister. At the very least, she would take Sandy to school, help her fix her hair, fix her snacks, occasionally read her a bed time story. And Larry's father had aquired a deep soft spot for "his little girl". Part of Larry felt happy that she may have a better childhood than his had been, but there was a strong feeling of envy coursing through his veins everytime he saw her smiling face.  
  
During lunch, instead of his usually routine of drowning in a good book, Larry lied his head down and tried to sleep. Listening to the peaceful drone of footsteps and conversation and slightly drifted off, but was too soon interrupted by the resounding school bell. Slowly, he lifted himself from the table and wandered off to class.  
"Oh, sorry," Larry said as he bumped into a girl with short brown hair. All she did was give him a dirty look and walk off. He made his down to the 300 hallway, looking for his science classroom. Once he found it, he gave a nod towards his teacher -who smiled back at him- and walked off to find a lab table to sit at. They were disecting frogs that day- a project that had been protested against the whole year. Yet Larry felt comfortable with the process involved in the experiment- what bothered him about this, and all group projects was the fact that he would have to find two other people to work with. He sat, scanning the room, knowing he had no choice but to wait until all the groups were full and then find whoever needed an extra person. Anger soon began to build within him as he thought about all the people in his class. His eyes rested on David Gordon. "Gordo" was just as concerned (if not more) about grades than even he was. Gordo wasn't popular by any means- he was merely a side kick. His only real friends were girls. Larry sat there fusing, wondering how this person, who wasn't any less of a geek than he was, had friends. And to make it worse Gordo knew somehow he was better than Larry, or at least acted that was. Larry could feel it. His eyes then settled on Lizzie and Miranda, the two friends of Gordo. Those two girls were more ridiculous and superficial than even Kate was. Yet they were hypocrits because they couldn't even see how completely void of anything meaningful they were. Larry wondered intensely how no one else saw this but him. His pale blue eyes lingered there for a moment and then wandered away casually, next resting on Kate, who he noticed seemed to be walking towards him. In that one instant, she almost seemed beautiful. Deep. He wondered if there was something hidden inside her that no one saw. Then, he realized she really was walking toward him. He froze in confusion, watching her.  
"You're in my group," she said immediately.  
"Wha-," he paused. "Okay," he replied automatically.  
"Come on, we're working with Claire." They walked over to a table in the corner. "I hope you know I'm not doing anything," she said, taking a seat on a stool, crossing her long legs. "I mean, this is disgusting. I can't believe they're making us do this." Claire said nothing, but nodded her head vigorously in agreement. "Okay, so, go ahead, get started."  
Larry looked at her for a second. Some part of him wanted to defy this order. Say, 'No way, I don't care who you are, I'm not going to be your bitch.' However, it was the way she spoke. There was a kind of fear in her voice that his senses thrived on. Fear that could have only come from insecurity. He saw it in the way she looked away, and began to stare at the floor. In the way she fiddled with the zipper on her purse. Without question, Larry smiled at her and began the project. When he smiled, Claire gave a look of disgust, yet Kate looked even more uncomfortable. Violated by kindness. Larry smiled to himself once more and they didn't speak again for the remainder of the project. 


	6. Shower Dreams

It was six o'clock on a Saturday night. As always, Larry remained home babysitting his little sister while his parents went off to some party or club. Luckily, Sandy posed no trouble. She was incredibly self sufficient and he was only there as a precaution in case the house caught on fire and because he had no where else to go. Larry sauntered away from his resting place, perched in front of the tv in his room, making his way slowly to the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door behind him, Larry undressed and stepped into the shower. As he turned on the water, a smile pierced his face at the feeling of warm water running down his back. He followed the normal routine of shampoo and conditioner, when suddenly, he felt a distinct sensation, once again, creeping up his spine. It was the day with Kate. He couldn't get it out of his head. There was a distinct sense of insecurity and discomfort. In her large, round eyes, Larry could now see something that hadn't been there before: Pain. A deep kind of pain that even she didn't realize was there. Smiling again, with the satisfaction of knowing something so intimate that even the owner of these feelings didn't realize them, Larry then felt another sensation creeping up on him. This time, however, it was an image of Kate. She was dressed in only two white scarves, strategically placed over her private areas. They seemed to be held on by the wind which was blowing at her, ruffling the scarves and letting her hair flow behind her majestically. He stepped into the picture and the wind seemed to stop. Kate smiled at him as the two scarves fell to her bare feet. He wandered towards her and slowly caressed her naked body. She moaned in pleasure as he leaned into kiss her, ever so gently. Hastily, Larry realized that he had now reached down and began pleasuring himself as the water ran softly down his back. Pushing his way back into his fantasy, he indulged himself until he'd finished and the image of Kate slowly faded from view. Wondering what this meant, he turned off the shower water and wandered slowly back to his room. In the hallway, he saw his sister playing with her Barbie dolls and felt a pang of guilt for what he'd done, with her sitting so close to the room. Yet this feeling lasted only a moment, while he stepped into his room and locked the door. A confused look still played across his face as he heard the sounds of a JC Penny's commercial in on the tv in the backround. Why Kate? What did it mean? He sat down on the edge of his bed and decided he would push her out of his mind. It was better not to get your hopes up about these things. It was better not to feel something so strongly for someone he didn't really know. Someone who hated him. Someone who he'd never thought of as beautiful before. Larry lied himself down on his bed and fell asleep with the lights still on. 


	7. Breakdown

The faint banging sound of his sister's small feet hitting the floor as she jumped rope, could be heard all the way up in Larry's room. He rolled over in his bed, now staring at the wooden floor, which had small bits of dust scattered on it. Other than the consistant thud and skid, of feet and rope, the house was silent. Larry's parents had gone out, as they always did. The red letters on the clock told Larry that it was thirteen minutes past midnight. It was hours past his sister's bedtime, but he didn't have the heart or the strength to make her go to sleep. He figured he would just let her wear herself out, and carry her up to her bed from whatever part of the house she fell asleep in. It didn't matter anyway. His parents would be out well past three in the morning, as they always were. Larry's lack of desire to do anything was slowly begining to drive him insane. He could feel it under his skin. The desire had gone because there was nothing anymore that brought him pleasure. Nothing that could make him feel anything. Right now, even the deepest pain would be welcome. For a brief moment, Larry had contemplated hurting himself. Doing something, anything. However, standing in the bathroom with the large kitchen knife positioned over his arm, he decided against it. It wasn't that he was afraid. It simply felt wrong.  
Suddenly, he leaped up from his bed and dashed into the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he quickly undressed and threw himself into the shower. Pulling the curtains shut, he turned on the water as cold as it would go and sat down on the shower's floor. He let the icy water run down his back, as he pulled his knees up into his chest. This had been a common past time for Larry lately. Anytime the forceful feeling of angst, instability or simply the lull of numbness would possess his body, he would run into the bathroom and sit with the water on cold for as long as it took to go away. The longest he'd stayed that way was two hours. His parents never noticed, mostly because of the fact that they were never home, but also because, when they were home, the payed no attention to Larry. That is to say, except for when his father felt like giving him another talk. Trying to get him to quit the chess team and join the football team. Still, Larry's thoughts were not on his parents. They had never really mattered to him and he figured that was okay. Still, he wanted someone to matter to him. As so many people now of days were saying, you should learn to truly love yourself, instead of looking for someone else to complete you. However, Larry thought dully about this for many hours and decided that if it was people who put the pain inside you in the first place, wouldn't you need people to take it away. Maybe you shouldn't rely on someone else to complete you. Still, you need someone to care about. Somone to love. And someone to love you in return.  
  
About fourty five minutes later, Larry turned off the running water and wandered out to the bathroom. The pearly walls and floor reminded him of his impression of a sanitarium. Or at least how the places were portrayed in movies. The walls were spottless, as were the floors. The sink sparkled back at him, pompously. Larry wondered to himself how even a sink could give off the impression that it were better than he was. Was there something in it? Did he think that lowly of himself. Or was he simply going mad? He gave a small trickle of laughter as his face pursed into a sort of half smirk. He rubbed a hand across his sallow arm as his reflection caught his attention. Those shining blue eyes darted up to the face that gazed at Larry through the mirror. His hand now rose up to touch his own cheek. 'That can't be me,' he thought calously, wondering who this person was. "That isn't me," he said, this time outloud. However, his voice was unconvincing, and his eye's connection with the mirror never faultered. Lonliness shone as brightly as the pale sapphire in Larry's eyes. Each crease, mark or movement of Larry's face reminded him of yet another flaw. He didn't want to see this person anymore. This person looked scared and confused. Pathetic and alone. This person needed to go. Suddenly, small silvery tears began to roll silently down the mirror's face. Larry soon realized, these tears were his. He touched the corner of his eye, preventing one tear to roll down it's destined course, instead diverting it down his thumb. "No," he said slowly. He stood there for another five minutes. Each passing second felt like a year. The tears began to cease and a sudden urge rose within him. Lifting a tightly closed fist into the air, Larry banged his hand hard against the glass. Nothing happened, except for a large red cirle that began to pulsate at the end of Larry's fist. Undettered, he proceeded banging his fists against the mirror, for what seemed like hours. Finally, as if in a miracle, he hit a weak spot and the large mirror shattered across the floor. Large shards fell to the floor, shattering into smaller pieces. Larry fell backwards in shock. His back hit the wall behind him as he slid slowly to the floor. Looking down at his hands and arms that were now covered in blood he was reminded of a scene in one of his favourite movies. However, this was not a science fiction movie. Those simply brought him moments of happy fantasy, to take him away. Yet they could never offer the solice of understanding. Softly, Larry mouthed a line from the movie that he could truly relate to, as he sat there on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass, bleeding all over his pants. "I have . . . I feel . . . this, great, great pressure . . . coming down on me . . . it's just constantly coming down . . . crushing me." As he finished the line he sat in silence, staring at half of his emotionless expression in a broken piece of glass that leaned against the wall. 


End file.
